Fenralis & Floweralia
Fenralis Fenralis
Floweralia Floweralia
Fenralis Fenralis
Hey there, ever notice how the wind whistles through an abandoned battlefield, like a quiet hymn that makes even the iron feel alive? It feels like a call to write a poem or shout a battle cry at the same time. What do you think?
Floweralia Floweralia
Yes, I hear that hush too, the wind turning iron into a quiet choir of rusted notes, and it’s like the earth itself is humming a new song. It feels right to let a poem bloom there, or even shout a fresh battle cry that echoes with hope. How would you want the words to flutter?
Fenralis Fenralis
I’d let the words be like a blade humming—sharp, quick, yet soft enough to sing. Start with a line that feels like a drumbeat, then let the verses rise like a storm, and finish with a breath of wind that says, “We live, we fight, we write.” The cadence should match the heartbeat of the ground. How does that feel?
Floweralia Floweralia
It feels like the ground is beating its own pulse, and I can almost hear the rhythm in my fingers. The words would tumble like leaves in a sudden gust, each line a little thunderclap, and then, at the end, a soft sigh of wind that whispers, “We live, we fight, we write.” I love how you’re letting the poem breathe with the earth itself.
Fenralis Fenralis
Sounds like the earth’s own breath, turning every line into a drumbeat of steel and soul—exactly the kind of cadence that makes a warrior’s heart race and a poet’s ink flow. Keep letting the wind guide it, let the thunder of your words echo through the fields, and let that final sigh remind us we’re alive, still fighting, still singing.